


none but fools trust to luck in play

by cherrietea



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Decisions, F/M, Free Verse, Gambling, M/M, Nikolai Gets Scammed By The Guy He Had A Thing With
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 19:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11296911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrietea/pseuds/cherrietea
Summary: nikolai trusts fedya dolokhov.





	none but fools trust to luck in play

DOLOKHOV: Or are you afraid to play with me?

the smoke stings his nose  
and sweat beads on his forehead  
eyelids fluttering, fatigued,  
like a moth to candlelight he is pulled in, he bets more money and  
drinks more vodka and  
deals more cards with deft and shaking fingers

NIKOLAI: Twenty rubles.

it is lost immediately to  
luck and chance  
to a jealous man’s eyes that  
sparkle with malice and a few glasses of champagne

DOLOKHOV: Leave it. You’ll win it back all the sooner.

doubt grips his shoulders and shakes him, desperation  
clings to his skin, tells him to go home,  
his pocket feels lighter but he will  
not be made a mockery of

DOLOKHOV: Gentlemen, lay your bets.

the man looks at him with a smile  
he cannot recognize, one that  
doesn’t reach his eyes, and leaves  
him ice cold

NIKOLAI: I bet six hundred.

he puts his  
faith into a seven of hearts with  
a torn corner  
his father put his  
trust in his son to  
not squander away the family fortune

DOLOKHOV: We'd best get this over with Your mother, your sister, Sonya- they'll be waiting at home.

so this is what it was  
it was never about him or  
even about the money, it was  
all about her and the absence of her

DOLOKHOV: There’s a rumour that’s been going around that i’m a sharper. Oh, those Moscow gossips.

he’s stalling  
he’s distracting, he’s weaving sly  
melodies of the tension and the smoke that  
filter through the room, he’s playing  
cards, he’s playing a siren’s song  
dealing sevens, dealing death blows

DOLOKHOV: Still, don’t ruin yourself.

the cards, the numbers are stacked  
against him, they weigh down on him,  
they break his back, he’s got  
the weight of the world on his  
shoulders but his hands are cuffed and tied

DOLOKHOV: Perhaps you can win back all you owe.

and he submits  
and everyone’s watching anyhow as he  
bets more and more, it’s involuntary  
and he adds up his own age with  
her age, and decides to play for that  
because he’s got to play for something

DOLOKHOV: Care to deal again, Rostov?

and those hands, broad boned and reddish,  
the wrists visible through the sleeves  
those hands which he loves and hates,  
never cease in their weaving,  
their dealing of cards  
they hold him in their power, gripping his  
shoulders, accusatory and ruthless

NIKOLAI: All right. I bet eight hundred.

he’s hurt  
he knows the man is out to destroy him  
yet all he’s ever tried to be is kind, to be a friend  
it doesn’t matter, all is lost  
and he wishes he were home  
he is dealt a spade

GAMBLERS, SPECTATORS: It’s time for supper.

NIKOLAI: Come now, just this one more little card!

the man’s smile  
lifts at the corner  
he toys with his worn shirt collar  
and shuffles a deck

DOLOKHOV: It’s all the same to me.

the card’s a ten, and it falls to him.

DOLOKHOV: You owe me forty-three-thousand, count.

he cannot breathe  
he hasn’t been able to  
for the past four hours

DOLOKHOV: Sonya is in love with you, I know-

NIKOLAI: Sonya has nothing to do with this. 

something shatters inside him  
like a glass vial, and the bitter taste  
climbs up his throat and chokes him

DOLOKHOV: When am I to receive the money, count?

NIKOLAI: To-morrow.

the man stretches, gets up and  
goes about his day.  
the boy he’s laid to ruin  
sits in the wreckage and mourns.

DOLOKHOV: You know what they say, Rostov. Lucky in love, unlucky at cards.

~

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first thing i've ever posted here ever oh damn


End file.
